


there is beauty in the strands of fate

by picketfences (OnyxSphinx)



Series: caleb-centric shorts [1]
Category: Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Touch Aversion, not as dark as the tags make it sound i swear this is literally a tallster cat fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28145322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/picketfences
Summary: Caleb finds a cat.
Relationships: Caleb Brewster/Benjamin Tallmadge
Series: caleb-centric shorts [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061852
Kudos: 7





	there is beauty in the strands of fate

Caleb’s freezing his arse off chopping wood when he hears a pathetic little meow. At first he doesn’t even register it properly; but after a few moments the loud, plaintive whine breaks through the fog clouding his mind.

He sets the axe down and looks around; spotting a wad of black and grey half-buried in the snow after a few moments of searching, from where the sound seems to be emanating. 

He frowns; takes a few steps forward. the mass wriggles slightly, and a feline face is exposed; nose pink and eyes wide. Caleb’s heart skips a beat. As gently as he can, he kneels, reaching out towards it. “Hey,” he murmurs, “‘s alright, ‘s jes’ me, old Caleb, right? I ain’t going to hurt you.”

After staring at him for a few moments, the cat seems to decide that he’s safe to come near; and uncurls itself; approaching Caleb; sniffs his outstretched hand and then buts its head against it. Caleb tries not to flinch at the touchdown fear of scaring the cat away, but it burns like it has since—

He shakes himself mentally. Best not to think of it. Turning his attention back to the cat, he murmurs, “Jes’ like that, now, it’s alright...”

After a few more moments, he slips a hand beneath its stomach and picks it up, tucking it beneath his coat. It makes what sounds like a token protest and burrows closer to his skin, the motion sending white hot knives of shock through him. He ignores them—and the wood; instead, begins to make his way back the house. 

When he walks in, Ben raises his head. “You’re back early,” he observes. 

“I found somethin’” Caleb replies.  _ Don’t be upset, _ he murmurs in his mind, and takes the cat out. 

Ben stares at him for a moment. “All right,” he says. “Was there something else, or...?”

Relief courses through him; and he wishes he could stand to kiss Ben. Instead he just says, “I’ll need your help bringing the wood in, by the way.”

“All right,” Ben says again, and rises, picking up his coat. “I’ll be back in a bit. Make sure that it doesn’t try and get into the pantry.”

“Slander,” Caleb huffs. The cat remains pressed, painfully, against his chest. After a few more moments, he sits down in one of the chairs and opens his coat, and the cat unhooks its claws from his vest, settling into his lap. 

The weight is discomfiting, but he can’t find it in himself to complain, especially when it begins to purr; the sound loud and rumbling; soothing. 

Ben comes back with the firewood a bit later, some snowflakes blowing in with him as he enters. “You look comfortable,” he comments; lips quirked; and Caleb hums. 

“I’m naming him Turtle,” he says. “For, uh—Sackett.” He fumbles with the name slightly, even still.

Ben's face softens. He doesn’t reach out to touch Caleb, but Caleb thinks maybe he wants to. He's both relieved and disappointed that he doesn’t. “It’s a good name,” Ben says. “He’s a scrap of a thing, though—can’t believe he’s that loud. Bit like you, in that.” His eyes are dancing.

Caleb's chest expands. “Shut up,” he says, but it’s tinged with fondness; and he imagines himself pulling Ben down for a hug. 

Ben chuckles. “I hope he doesn’t mind eating scraps,” is all he says. 

“So we can keep him?” Caleb tries not to sound too surprised; fails. 

Ben frowns. “‘course,” he says, as if there was no doubt to it, and maybe there wasn’t. 

Caleb finds himself smiling. “Right,” he says. “You hear that, Turtle? We’re going t’ give you a good home.”

“You’re already doting on him like he’s your firstborn,” Ben huffs; but it’s not mean spirited; and Caleb finds his own smile stretching wider.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [major-721](https://major-721.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
